Drifter

The organic ship disappeared into Shimmering Devil’s hangar.

“Stay out of my way,” Gami commanded, before activating her stealth system.

Eli grinned, started looking for ways to get onto the ship. He checked the sensor, thoroughly analyzing the data. He zoomed in on the ship with one of the forward-facing cameras. The hull was immaculately clean.

There, almost imperceptible, the faint outline of a square. If the ship hadn’t been so clean, he probably wouldn’t have been able to spot it. A focused scan confirmed his suspicion. It was a hidden hangar. This ship could be used for smuggling.

Cavalier entered the vessel’s weapon range. He jinked around, dodging the barrage of deadly light. At the last instant, he turned the ship 180 degrees. The rear fins slammed into the panel that concealed the hangar, bursting it open. Cavalier punched through the covering, past the plasma screen, and into the little bay.

The apogee class came to a violent halt, crushing the many stacks of crates and boxes. They burst open, spilling out contraband of all kinds.

A few armed men rushed into the hangar. Eli came down the boarding ramp firing, emptying his assault rifle into them.

There amongst the packages of weird powder and thumb drives stuffed full of forbidden knowledge, he saw it, a weapon that could be a threat to his rival bounty hunters.

***

Gami ran the invisible blade across the goon’s throat. Blood burst forth. He gargled and sputtered as he faded away. His eyes stayed locked open when he gave up the ghost, not knowing how he had died. With him out of the way, the hangar was clear.

She took a few moments to examine his face. The computer that was built into her helmet’s optic systems scanned it, searched the databases she had access to. Sure enough, there was a small reward for his termination. She used the cybernetic connection she had to the system to take a series of stills and a short video, evidence that she had earned the reward. Then she pressed on.

She had entered the hangar far too late to witness the prisoner being unloaded. But, the destination was clear, a detention area. She willed her cybernetic uplink to search the databases that she had access to. Schematics of military cruisers and pleasure craft raced in front of her eyes. Shimmering Devil was a custom job, no publicly available drawings existed for it.

Gami put her hand out in front of her, palm held horizontal, fingers spread. The sensation was barely perceptible, but it was there, the faint static that lingered for a short time after a tractor beam or other gravity manipulation device was used. She could trace the path that Bohoat Mog and his prisoner had taken.

The ship’s PA came on, “Attention, all available personnel! Arm up and head to the observation deck. Prepare to repel boarders!”

That would be Jiraa the Mauler. She had noticed that he had a boarding device on his ship. The madman would blast his way to the bounty or die trying, and she very much doubted that he would die. This would mean that there would be less opponents in her way, but she’d have to move quicker.

Gami reached behind her back, made sure that the shaped charge was still there. It would be able to pierce Bohoat Mog’s armor. The only questions were how she was going to get close enough to plant it on him, and how she was going to get far enough away to safely detonate it.

As for the human, if he was dumb enough to go after Aydem, she would take care of him.

***

Eli worked his way through the ship’s complex network of corridors and decks. The weapon he had found was slung across his back. He kept a pump-action at the ready, but he encountered no foes. They were all busy responding to a boarding action.

As he searched for the fugitive, he found himself wondering which of his rival bounty hunters was the greatest threat.

***

The trail did not lead to a holding cell. It led to the ship’s overengineered bridge. The layout was complex, a circle of symmetrically arranged pits and elevated stations.

She imagined what it would be like to look down on it from above, something like the internal mechanism of a lock formed in her mind. The computer in her helmet took these observations and turned them into a map.

The control stations were crewed by well-dressed beings. Their positions were added to the map. And there in the center of it all was Bohoat Mog. The bounty hunter still held Aydem aloft with his gravity beam. A confident man in a finely tailored suit was talking to him.

Gami checked to make sure that the stealth field was still fully operational, still wrapping itself around her suit and gear. Then she started planning out her approach.

Bohoat Mog spoke to the man in the suit, his voice hard and electronic, “Your offer is insufficient. I count five separate parties that are willing to pay more than that.”

“Our organization would very much like to take custody of Mr. Lynard, and we love working with you. We would be willing to up the price to one hundred thousand, along with repairing the extensive damage to your ship.”

The ship’s internal com went off, “We need reinforcements! He’s reached the barracks block!”

“It seems that you are in need of assistance,” Bohoat Mog observed, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“We can take care of it. However, we could always use your assistance in other matters.”

While Gami snuck closer, they discussed hunting down certain debtors and tracking the movements of a rival group’s couriers.

One of the crew members turned in Gami’s direction. She froze, stayed perfectly still as they moved from one station to another. When they finally turned their back on her, she pushed forward.

Each movement was quickly thought out, guided by training and experience. No unnecessary movement. Always ready to strike with hand or foot, to draw a weapon, to leap away. Muscle memory worked alongside methodical planning as she made her way across the bridge.

Another message on the internal com, another desperate call for help.

Gami reached one of the elevated sections, a tower with an enclosed station that reminded her of a simulator. She carefully scaled the tower, one hand hold at a time, laboring to minimize the tell-tale distortion that was the cloaking field’s weakness.

At last, she reached a point near the apex. Bohoat Mog was directly below her, a floating weapons platform operated by a merciless killer. She reached behind her back and retrieved the shaped charge.

It was then that the sound of the crazed human’s gruff voice brought the conversation that was taking place below her to a halt. He made a threat and raised a weapon, the sight of which sent her scrambling around to the other side of the tower. The ship’s captain dove behind a control panel.